


thinking of a friend

by g0ryllama



Series: Give Me All Your Kisses (The Birds and The Bees) [1]
Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson, 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990)
Genre: @author too, Ambiguous Genitals, Casual Sex, Hook-Up, Light Masochism, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Pining, Prequel, Rough Sex, Stranger Sex, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unrequited Love, i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 04:20:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20988737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/g0ryllama/pseuds/g0ryllama
Summary: His back arches delicately as those hands slide up his thighs, but the smoothness feels wrong.It’s why he doesn’t close his eyes, because if he does, Snufkin knows he’ll see Moomintroll in his mind instead of this random stranger, and that scares him.





	thinking of a friend

**Author's Note:**

> smutty smutty smut smut
> 
> this is a prequel to [escape the burning wait](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18909193), set about a year before that

His heat is worse this year. It built and built and built so slowly it felt like his insides were on fire, but nothing would douse the flames licking at his insides.

Even now, in some backwoods cabin, pressed against the door by a lumberjack he’d succeeded in annoying enough to have no qualms about taking a mumrik in heat, it only builds instead of beginning to relax.

He’d like to pretend he doesn’t know why.

It feels strange, as their lips slide together, an insistent tongue pushing in between his lips to claim his mouth almost angrily, because this should be making him flood his underwear, which in turn would calm him down somewhat. Instead, the almost constant gush of slick only ignites every sensation tenfold, every breath forced out of him like a punch to his lungs, fire spreading throughout his every limb.

The door handle presses uncomfortably in the small of his back, and his toes ache from leaning up to meet his hookup midway, but even that doesn’t cool the heat, and he tries to get this across by pushing his hips forward.

The lumberjack seems to get the hint, his wide, thick hands wrapping around Snufkin’s waist almost all the way around before picking him up, their mouths never once disconnecting. His legs wrap around the other’s waist, his arms around his neck, desperation discolouring everything around him as their teeth clack together uncomfortably.

He’s unceremoniously dumped onto a massive double bed, swamped by the quilt on top, arms thrown above his head and legs spread, still unfortunately clothed, sticky and sweaty and so close to just begging for the other to do whatever he wants to him.

Luckily, Snufkin isn’t made to wait for too long, the lumberjack almost tearing off the mumrik’s clothes in his haste, trousers and shirt flung with disregard across to the other side of the room. Did he drop his hat somewhere? And his bag? He barely has the wherewithal to care, let alone remember.

Still, even in just his underwear, he feels way too clothed. His partner, to his annoyance however, seems almost transfixed by what he’s revealed, hands roaming the expanse of his chest and stomach, fingers rough and calloused yet smooth, skin against skin, every touch sending flares through his nerves. A thumb rubs at his nipples teasingly, quiet gasps slipping from his lips, pleasure jolting through his body like electricity, but it isn’t  _ enough _ .

He wants to forget. And none of this is making him  _ forget _ . He can’t focus on just this when all his mind can think about is how wrong he feels.

He can't.

The lumberjack pinches his nipples tightly between his thumbs and forefingers, eliciting a loud, sharp cry from Snufkin, the pain like a balm to the searing heat coursing through his veins, and if he keeps this up, then maybe forgetting won’t be quite as hard as it is now.

Seemingly getting bored of torturing his nipples, the lumberjack leans back on his haunches and slowly peels off Snufkin’s underwear, watching with fascination that would make him blush under any other circumstance. But right now he just wants him to  _ hurry up _ .

“You’re so wet,” the man hums, throwing his pants over to the rest of his clothes, pushing one hand down on his lower stomach, the pressure making his core pulse. “What a slut.”

And it should hurt his feelings but he’s so beyond desperate that he doesn’t care. “Shut up and take me.” He demands, not caring if he sounds spoilt or bossy, threading his fingers into his hair to give them something to do, spreading his legs wide and trying so hard not to think.

The other laughs, letting his hands begin to travel. His back arches delicately as those hands slide up his thighs, slow and deliberately teasing, making his entrance ache with need, but the smoothness of his skin against Snufkin’s feels wrong. Too hard. Too hot. Not the right colour, not the right anything. No fur.  


It’s why he won’t close his eyes, because if he does, Snufkin knows he’ll see Moomintroll in his mind instead of this random stranger, and that scares him. He wants his best friend here instead, staring at his body with reverence, unable to tear his ocean blue eyes away from the light pink blush dusting his torso, the way his lips part on every exhale, the way his skin glistens with the sweat from his heat. He wants  _ Moomintroll _ here, about to take him to soothe his heat, instead of this stranger he enticed with dares and thinly veiled begging.  


And he feels disgusting. Poor Moomin, hibernating far away in Moominvalley, dreaming of sunshine amidst all that wintery snow, with no idea that his best friend can’t stop thinking about him in such an inappropriate way. Would he be disgusted too? Call him a whore, a disgrace, refuse to be his friend anymore?

No, that’s not him. But he would be distant. Cold maybe. Blunt and short and not at all as excited or happy to see him.

He feels so guilty, can’t even begin to fathom why this started, why he can’t cum without thinking of the troll, why every partner he takes on his heat morphs into him somewhere down the line. But he can’t not think of it.

At least his one saving grace is that Moomin has no idea about his heats, no clue what he gets up to when he travels south every Winter, the ulterior motive behind his need to travel. And he’ll never find out if Snufkin has anything to do with it.  


A finger slips into his hole almost much too easily, thicker than two of his own, the stretch still barely felt because of how open and ready he is to be taken already, to be satisfied. The lumberjack (who is not Moomin) seems to notice how unsatisfied Snufkin is with just his one finger, so he pushes a second in alongside it, already scissoring him open.

If he could, he’d stare up at the ceiling and wait for it to be over, ride the pleasure but think nothing of it. But if he doesn’t think, then Moomin replaces the lumberjack, and Moomin slips from his lips, and Moomin becomes his everything, and he can’t do that, can’t take the hurt and the tears and longing because he’ll break.

Every slide of the fingers inside of him forces gasps out of him, strong and purposeful, with one goal in mind, and he just wants to tell him to get on with it already. His fingers tug idly on his hair, the pain clarifying enough to keep his mind off of the troll he so desperately desires. If the other notices, he doesn’t say anything, pulling his fingers out of the mumrik and licking them clean of his juices before shucking off his clothes and sending them in vaguely the same direction Snufkin’s went.

His cock is rather big, he supposes, and he might even be intimidated by it if he wasn’t as desperate as he is, both by his heat and the need to forget. But it doesn’t stir the heat in his stomach the same way the thought of just Moomintroll does. There’s no telling the way his best friend’s cock would make him feel.

No, bad thoughts.

His legs are picked up and placed on the other’s shoulders, his flexibility coming in handy as he’s almost folded completely in half. The tip of the lumberjack’s dick nudges at his entrance, hot and hard, and Snufkin pushes his hips down against it, a frown clear on his face.

It feels good to finally be stretched wide on a cock, the heavy weight of it pushing his walls apart and rubbing against every nerve ending deliciously, a soft moan permeating the otherwise quiet room as the other bottoms out. And god, does it feel good to squeeze around him, feel how full he feels now something is finally happening.

The lumberjack doesn’t wait for Snufkin to get used to it (not that he needs to), pulling out to the tip and slamming back in hard enough that the bed shakes with the force, ripping a cry from Snufkin’s throat at the rough pace so soon. But it’s exactly what he needs, the intensity and slight pain enough to distract him from the less-than fleeting thoughts of a certain moomin that slowly begin to fade the harder he’s wrecked. Every thrust forces him further up the mattress, until eventually he has to tear his hands from out of his hair to hold onto the headboard, just to stop his head from hitting it. His legs ache from the position, entrance hot and inflamed from the constant friction, only saved from it being painful by the ridiculous amount of slick still gushing from around the other’s cock.

It could be hours or it could be seconds, but Snufkin loses himself in the heady pleasure, and the relief of not thinking about Moomintroll, softly begging for more and more, responded to with grunts and groans and sounds that flood his mind with white noise.

His orgasm feels like a salvation, like a wildfire beginning to pick up pace before felling every tree and only then extinguishing with a final, blissful sigh. It hurts, the intensity, but he wouldn’t want anything else, and when the other follows behind him, drawn over the edge by the tight clenching of Snufkin’s hole, he finally feels free, if only for a moment.

The lumberjack collapses next to him after slipping out of him, cock softening and breaths heavy. “That was fun,” he pants, slight humour painting his words, watching as Snufkin stands, white, sticky fluid leaking down his thighs obscenely. “I’m guessing you’re going to need a round two soon?”

He nods, not saying anything as he disappears into the other’s kitchen to find some water before he gets too dehydrated. Now he just has to wait out the rest of his heat without thinking about Moomintroll too much.

Something tells him he won’t last that long.

**Author's Note:**

> i was in a bad mood and i wanted some emotional sex without resolution, sue me


End file.
